


I am Not the Same Man

by EmynIthilien



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:03:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmynIthilien/pseuds/EmynIthilien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davos and Salladhor Saan’s bromance through the years.  Young Davos the smuggler is happy to earn the friendship of the pirate Salladhor Saan.  However, as Ser Davos’ relationship with Lord Stannis Baratheon develops, Davos is forced to reevaluate the man he was and the man he wishes to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am Not the Same Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 4th round of got_exchange on livejournal, for the following prompt: Davos and Salladhor Saan’s bromance through the years. I’d really like it if it touched on how his working relationship with Stannis changed his friendship with Salladhor (Stannis/Davos subtext is always welcome and loved).

TEN YEARS BEFORE THE STORM’S END SIEGE

Salladhor Saan was a pirate who dressed in silk and samite, who wore velvet caps decorated with the most lurid of exotic bird feathers. Wearing the stark colors of the North would never do for him, for his clothes were as bright as the bold stripes on all of his ships—and often shimmering with some jewel or another.

And that was just the man’s outer appearance.

From watching the docks at King’s Landing for years, Davos had come to respect the flamboyant man from Lys. Salladhor Saan was a well known merchant, bringing in cargoes from the Free Cities and the faraway lands of the East. But, as everyone in Flea Bottom knew, no man who was not a king or a lord became _that_ rich or had _that_ many ships at his command simply by honest means.

And that was what interested Davos the most.

Davos had been born and raised in Flea Bottom, and his happiest memories to date had been when his father had taken him and his mother fishing in Blackwater Bay. But that was all before a week of terrible storms had left his father drowned and his mother in tears and coughing up more blood than she usually did. His last memory of her had been when she pushed him towards the docks at King’s Landing with his father’s spare cloak around his shoulders (pinned up at the bottom since it was still much too long for him), instructing him to find a good captain who would give him a place on his ship.

“And maybe one day, little Davos, you will come to captain a great ship for a kind and just king and to father sons who will never know what it’s like to be hungry.”

Davos had done as his mother had instructed, serving every possible position on a ship as the years went by, from ship’s cabin boy to sailor to oarsman, traveling to many a port in Westeros—from Oldtown to Eastwatch by the Sea. With a little luck and trust he had risen to be the second on Captain Bernyrd’s _Storm Cloud_ , which was painted black and had a set of white or black sails, depending on the purpose of her voyage. For Captain Bernyrd was a smuggler.

“I’m no different from any of these merchants that sail to ports all over Westeros and the Free Cities,” Davos remembered the captain telling him, with a grin that was notable for its missing teeth. “Save that I have to be a bit more careful about where I dock my ship and be a bit more wary of the royal fleet.”

And so when Captain Bernyrd died unexpectedly in his sleep one night, Davos found himself in command of his first ship. And he knew who he wanted to make friends with, for he had never trusted the various merchants whom Captain Bernyrd would buy his cargoes from.

“How many namedays have you seen, boy?” said Salladhor Saan with a cock of his head. His white blond hair seemed to glitter in the sun, matching the cloth-of-gold trim on his handsome cloak.

“Twenty,” replied Davos with straight face.

Salladhor Saan gave a hearty laugh.

“And my wife is the queen of Westeros! You have not seen more than fourteen, I am thinking. And how did you get this ship you claim will safely take my cargoes past the prying eyes of the royal fleet? You stole it, yes?”

“I didn’t think that an infamous pirate such as yourself would bat even an eyelash at a stolen ship. I have seen sixteen namedays, and I have spent most of those sailing all over Westeros and learning everything there is about sailing—and smuggling. I have a good ship with a good crew, and no mission is too dangerous for me.”

The pirate blinked at Davos, as if he was surprised that he would be talked to in such a way by such a nondescript, young man.

“Well well, aren’t you a cocky little whelp. That’s what they all are liking to say to me, these smuggling captains who think they are worthy of doing business with the Prince of the Narrow Sea! Though they usually come to me dressed in silks with bodyguards all around them, not dressed in scratchy wool with a couple of common sailors by their sides like yourself.”

“So does the weave of a man’s cloak and the number of sellswords at his side tell you how good he is at reading the winds? Or at navigating the coasts? Or knowing when and where the royal fleet and the fleets of all these other lords are likely to show up and capture his ship?” Davos didn’t know if this is what the Lysene pirate wanted to hear or not, but he had nothing else to impress with other than his words. And if Salladhor Saan didn’t take his words seriously, there was nothing else Davos could do to prove that he deserved to be trusted.

Salladhor Saan’s eyes twinkled at Davos’ reply. “If you’re so sure of yourself, tell me how I would smuggle a cargo to Storm’s End if the royal fleet was in Shipbreaker Bay, on the lookout for smugglers such as yourself?”

 _Storm’s End? Surely the pirate doesn’t need a man to go there?_ The Baratheons of Storm’s End were tied by blood to the Targaryens, so they should have no reason to flaunt the rules of the king. _Or maybe I’m simply being tested._

Davos thought for a moment, as Salladhor Saan eyed him up and down. “I would approach the castle from the south, as the coast along Cape Wrath is very treacherous with many sharp rocks hiding just below the surface in the shallows, deterring any lawful ship from sailing along it. There are also many caves to hide in, not to mention the small cave that leads to the main dock under Storm’s End, which many don’t know about because its entrance is narrow and far from the castle.”

“And if your ship was too big to fit in the entrance to this narrow passage?”

“I’d wait for a night where the moon is new and the wind is howling, so as not to be easily seen or heard. For men are less likely to chase after a ship when they can’t see it or hear it.”

The twinkle in the pirate’s eyes still remained. “You amuse me, Davos—it is just Davos, yes? No lordly or bastardly name to come after?”

Davos nodded, unsure of the point of that question. What lord would ever be a smuggler?

“Good, because I can’t stand to have lords in my service. They expect too much from humble Salladhor Saan. I’ll give you a chance, Davos, you and your little black ship with your good crew. As it happens, I need a cargo delivered to a business partner of mine in Oldtown, but I tire of having to sneak past the Redwyne galleys that believe the Arbor Straits are their personal territory. They wished to see a legal bill of sale the last time one of my ships went in that direction, and thank all these gods that this ship was on lawful business! I shudder to think what would have been its fate had things been otherwise, yes.”

Davos waited.

“If you can deliver this cargo of mine, come back to me and we’ll discuss further business. I’ll be sending a few of my men along with you to make sure everything goes as I wish it to. Salladhor Saan makes a good friend, but only to those who are honest to him. Think you can do that?”

Davos grinned.

~

“I did it.”

Davos was leaning against Salladhor Saan’s desk in the pirate’s lavishly furnished captain’s cabin aboard his favorite ship of the moment, the _Salladhor Saan._ Davos’ arms were crossed, and he was grinning as he expectantly looked at the other man, who had chosen to wear an aquamarine silk shirt under a white tunic trimmed with silver for the day.

“Yes, you accomplished your task admirably, from what I am hearing. My men have good things to say about you and your crew, yes, but any man can get lucky.” Salladhor Saan wasn’t looking up at Davos, but absently analyzing some account ledgers.

“Okay, say I did get lucky this time, but if lightning strikes twice in the same place, surely even an accomplished sailor like yourself wouldn’t attribute that to chance?” Davos countered. He would not let Salladhor Saan dismiss him that easily.

“So you are saying that I should give you another chance, your little black ship and your good crew?”

Davos rolled his eyes, slightly. “No, I’m here to bid you good riddance and tell you that I’ve taken up an offer to captain a ship in Lord Baratheon’s fleet. _Of course_ I’ve earned another chance from you to prove my worth. The cargo you gave me to deliver near Oldtown wasn’t worth terribly much, but it had to go to a tricky location, so getting me to attempt the delivery was very profitable for you with little risk.”

Salladhor Saan looked up at him and cocked his head from side to side, regarding Davos. He began to grin. “So you’re saying that you’ll buy and deliver more of my cargoes, even if they are to go to dangerous places?”

Davos nodded. “Do you have a place in mind?”

“Now that you mention it, I do. The last ship I sent there never came back, or else the captain felt the need to disappear from the sight of my numerous ships.”

“Do you need me to go to Storm’s End?” asked Davos, with a small bit of apprehension, remembering the question he had been asked before.

Salladhor Saan widened his eyes and shook his head. “Goodness no, Lord Steffon Baratheon is no friend to men like us, and he rules his lands with an iron fist. I am hearing that he has an ‘eye for an eye’ type of justice. If he were to take one look at me, he would see me for both a merchant and a pirate. I might be paid in kind for my goods as a merchant, but I would also be punished for all my exciting escapades, for I’m sure I’ve done something unfavorable to a Baratheon ship or to one of Storm’s End’s allies in the past. Still, I would rather deal with him than the Targaryen king. Did you hear what happened to the poor man who got caught poaching in the king’s own forest?”

Davos had certainly heard the tale, whispered in warning around Flea Bottom. While Lord Baratheon might be just and harsh, King Aerys Targaryen was harsh and burning, thinking fire the solution to any problem. _But the king only burned a peasant, not a lord, so no one is likely to take up arms against him._

“I have some goods that need to be delivered to Lannisport, which is easy enough, but then I need to have some cargoes exchanged at Seaguard, of all places.” Salladhor scoffed. “Lord Mallister has a small fleet of his own, but it rarely ventures out of the Cape of Eagles because of those damned ships with golden krakens on slimy black sails.”

“You’re worried about the _Greyjoys_?” wondered Davos incredulously. “Why would a pirate such as yourself be worried about them?”

“Have you ever met the Ironborn, smuggler, or have had one of their longships come up behind your own? They are pirates like myself, yes, but I am much richer and infinitely more civilized. True, I steal other ships, but I don’t stoop to the level of _them_ ,” he spat.

“I didn’t know you were so opinionated on the matter,” replied Davos.

“Keep working with me and you’ll learn much and more about all these lords that sit on their thrones walled up in their castles.”

“So is that an offer?” slyly asked Davos.

Salladhor Saan gave a jovial laugh. “I guess it is. I’m beginning to like you, Davos, and if your lightning continues to strike in the same place—that’s how you are terming luck, yes?—I expect that one day you’ll be celebrating your success on a lavish ship of your own, instead of on one you stole.”

“I didn’t steal my ship,” said Davos indignantly. “My captain died, and the crew began to follow me. Why? Because I knew how to run and steer the ship better than anyone else on board.”

The pirate continued to chuckle, but abruptly stopped when he saw the look on Davos’ face.

“Are you serious, or are mine ears deceiving me?” At a glare from Davos, Salladhor Saan’s laughter began again, with renewed vigor. “It seems to me like I have an honest smuggler on my hands, what _ever_ is the world coming to?”

~

And so the years passed, and lightning did indeed continue to strike in the same place for Davos and his little black ship. He was fast gaining a reputation as an excellent—or notorious, depending on what side of the law one was on—smuggler, and Salladhor Saan had turned out to be as good a friend as he had promised. The pirate was Salla to him now, and Salla was ever fond of having Davos share his company whenever they happened to be in the same port.

Davos was also lucky enough to fall in love, something he could thank Salla for as well.

Many sailors believed that the most violent storms were sent by the gods to punish. If that was true, then the worst storm that Davos ever experienced to date happened to be the one to bring him the most joy. When his poor little black ship limped into King’s Landing after a particularly horrible gale, Davos called on a carpenter that Salla swore by. The carpenter did exceptional and perfunctory work, but that didn’t impress Davos as much as the carpenter’s daughter who brought her father lunch one day. The girl wasn’t much older than himself and no beauty—but she had the kindest smile that Davos had ever seen, and her laughing green eyes seemed to pierce his very heart. Marya, that’s what her name was.

Every time Davos made landing in King’s Landing, he would seek out Marya and take her to a tavern to dance or simply walk with her along the docks and point out the names of all the stars to her. And he realized that he was docking his ship in King’s Landing more often than he usually would have.

“Will you show me the stars that make up the maiden again, Davos?”

Davos stood behind Marya and took her hand, and pointed to the correct stars. “One maiden, as my lady requested.”

“I’m not a lady, Davos, unless you have me confused with some highborn maid!”

“Even if I met all of them, none will be like you. I’m no lord or knight, but you’ll always be a lady to me. So would you ever wish to become _my_ lady?”

She smiled at him. “My father has been wondering when you would ask him for my hand. What took you so long?”

Davos shook his head, laughing, and then kissed her.

 

THE STORM’S END SIEGE

 

One of the first questions Salladhor Saan had ever asked Davos was how he would smuggle a cargo into Storm’s End. Now, with half the realm up in arms against Mad King Aerys Targaryen, including the Baratheons of Storm’s End, Davos would soon find out if the answer he gave the pirate over ten years ago would still work. For with Lord Robert Baratheon fighting the Targaryens in the field, his castle had been besieged by Targaryen loyalists from land and sea, and the garrison inside was in desperate need of food.

“So you think you’ll be rewarded, Davos, if you can get past the Redwyne ships again and slip into Storm’s End with a ship full of food?”

“With the following that Robert Baratheon has, he and his allies certainly have enough gold to mobilize thousands of men. And I hear that Lord Baratheon’s two younger brothers are among those starving in Storm’s End, who he doubtlessly loves. Above all, no matter how much gold the Baratheons have stashed in their castle, starving men can’t eat gold.”

The pirate laughed. “I like the way you think, my friend. With logic like that, I can see why you’re earning a reputation as the best smuggler in Westeros! But what if Lord Steffon Baratheon’s sons take after him, and still believe that justice should be carried out ‘an eye for an eye,’ hmm?”

Davos paused. Salla _did_ have a point, but would a man kill the one who saved his life, no matter how unsavory the savior?

“I have every reason to believe that if I make it _in_ the castle, I’ll make it back _out_ again. Messengers were able to sneak out from the castle, you said, bearing promises from the Baratheons that any relief to the starving garrison would be richly rewarded. If the sons _do_ take after the father, I doubt this warrior Lord Robert and whoever his two younger brothers are will go back on their _word_.”

Davos was resolute in his answer. Every mission had its risks, no matter what side one looked at it from. And the dangers of this one weren’t that different from those he had taken in the past, for, what, he simply had to get past some ships and navigate a treacherous coastline? And perhaps have to deal with some stubborn lord, who couldn’t be _that_ fearsome after all the characters Davos had come to know since befriending Salladhor Saan? The reward promised by the Baratheons was his for the taking, and Davos was bold enough—or reckless enough—to go after it. Why else would he call himself a smuggler?

Salladhor Saan gave Davos an intense, appraising look, and a rakish grin suddenly appeared on his face. A gold tooth glinted.

“I have an offer for you, and Salladhor Saan never goes back on his offers once he makes them. If you succeed in sneaking past those lordly ships that are blocking Storm’s End and give the garrison enough food to outlast the siege, I’ll give you a handsome new ship like my _Salladhor Saan_.”

“A ship that you stole?” Davos snorted.

“Now, why would I do such a thing like that?”

“Because you’re a pirate and you steal ships for a living.”

“Bah, you make the truth sound so horrible. Telling the truth so often will get you into trouble one day, smuggler. But no, I don’t gift my friends with stolen goods. I’ll take you and your family to Lys with me, and I’ll commission a fine ship to be built for you. You’ll be free to do whatever you want with it—smuggle, pirate with my fleet, or, gods forbid, do something legal like become a merchant or a fisherman. It is of no consequence to me.”

 _A ship, a proper ship, a ship of my own, built for my specifications_. It was more than Davos could have dreamed of, seven hells, everything that he could have dreamed of. He could hear his mother’s last words echo in his ears…he wouldn’t be in the service of a king, but he would be the captain of a grand ship and Marya and his sons would never need to live with fear or hunger again, depending on what he chose to do with the ship. But a little detail niggled at the back of Davos’ mind as he looked into the pirate’s grinning face.

“And you’ll want part of my profits, or else my ship will be stolen from me when my back is turned?”

Salladhor feigned looking affronted. “Me? The Prince of the Narrow Sea doing something as despicable as that?”

“That’s what you do to those ‘business partners’ of yours that don’t own up to their part in a bargain.”

Salla grinned. “You know me well, Davos. Yes, it would be wise of you to give me some of your profits, at least until the ship is paid off. But I think it’s a good deal, and I don’t think you’ll receive a better offer from any other man in Westeros.”

“True,” answered Davos. “Unless something unexpected happens at Storm’s End…”

“I think it’s time to shake hands, yes?”

“Wait until I come back from Strom’s End with my gold, then we’ll start making the arrangements. I wouldn’t like to start building a ship before the timber’s cut.”

“As you will,” shrugged Salla amiably. “When I grow old and retire with my wives to a palace in Lys, we’ll see if Westeros doesn’t remember you as Prince Davos of the Narrow Sea.”

 

A FEW MONTHS AFTER THE STORM’S END SIEGE

 

“I did it.”

Davos had finally caught up with Salladhor Saan, after traders had started to trickle back to the docks of King’s Landing after its sack. Robert Baratheon was to be crowned and wed in a week’s time, and all the high lords, petty lords, knights, and most everyone else in Westeros was anticipating the celebrations to follow. Davos was slated to attend as a guest of honor, at the insistence of none other than the future king’s brother, Stannis Baratheon.

“Davos, my friend! It heartens Salladhor Saan to see you alive and well, and not feeding the fish at the bottom of Shipbreaker Bay.” Salla caught Davos in a bone crushing hug and kissed him twice on each cheek, as was the fashion in Lys. Davos’ face reddened, for the pirate had never greeted him in such a manner.

“Surely you heard of my success? About how I saved Storm’s End?”

“Of course I did, but I didn’t hear what became of the brave smuggler that saved the starving Baratheon garrison with a ship full of onions. Onions? Surely you could have found more delectable food than that, such as those Pentoshi olives that I am fond of?”

“My ship had more than _just_ onions. Onions simply happened to make up an unusually large proportion of the goods, and I paid next to nothing for them. I also had a fair amount of salt fish, dried beef, potatoes, grain…”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture,” said Salla with a wave of his hand. He took another glance at Davos, then stopped and examined him more closely.

“Wait a moment, I am noticing something different about you, yes, something I can’t quite be placing….” Salla looked Davos up and down, taking notice of, among other things, his handsome grey and black cloak, the cut of his shirt and breeches, his new boots, new leather gloves, and a curious pouch hanging around his neck.

“So my smuggler friend has bought himself some new clothes? I thought I’d never see the day! But your gloves…you never used to wear gloves, if I am remembering correctly? And there’s something odd about the way your left hand’s fingers are moving…”

Salla made to grab Davos’ left hand, but Davos pulled it away, his (hidden) mutilated fingers dancing just out of the pirate’s reach.

“I think you should sit down, Salla, I have much to tell you about my mission to Storm’s End. And I don’t think my family and I will be traveling with you to Lys anytime soon to get a new ship built.”

The pirate looked bewildered, as if someone had just thrown water over his face and his handsome crimson cloak.

“Well, I owe it to you to hear your tale, my friend, though I can’t imagine what’s stopping you from taking up my offer and sailing across the Narrow Sea!”

_Many things, actually. Things that would make a pirate turn in his grave. But I made my decision for the right reasons, and I do not regret the deal I struck with Stannis Baratheon, even if you may think it akin to betrayal._

“First of all,” began Davos, “I have a coronation and wedding to attend.”

Salla stared at him. “Surely you aren’t meaning _this_ coronation?”

“Lord Stannis insisted.”

“Lord _Stannis_? I have not heard of him. What is he lord of?”

“Storm’s End, he expects, once his brother takes up the Iron Throne that he and his allies won from the Targaryens.”

“Lord Stannis _Baratheon_?” Davos could imagine the jeweled cogs in Salladhor Saan’s brain spinning, piecing together the events that must have happened since the siege of Storm’s End. “I am thinking he is the one who you met when you delivered your onions to Storm’s End, yes? It is obvious that he must have given you gold for your efforts, given your clothes. But since when do lords invite smugglers to weddings and coronations?”

“Ever since lords started rewarding smugglers for a mission accomplished with a knighthood, good lands, and a warship.”

Salla’s expression went from bewildered to puzzled to taken aback to shocked in a matter of seconds. He opened his mouth to say something, but Davos cut him off.

“Though those rewards came at a price, for the notoriety of Davos the smuggler preceded me into the castle.” And with that, Davos removed the leather glove from his left hand and wriggled his shortened fingers for the pirate to see.

Salla didn’t speak for a long while, and Davos was faintly amused that he had stunned the ever talkative and flamboyant rouge into silence. Finally, Salla said softly, “What has happened to you, my friend? You traded you fingertips for a _Ser_?”

Salla paused, and when Davos didn’t say anything, he continued. “Why, you don’t know the first thing about being knightly! You know nothing of swordplay, riding destriers, or wearing armor…”

“But I know how to sail a ship, and I know the coasts of Westeros better than most anyone alive. Lord Stannis was happy to take advantage of that knowledge when he routed out the remaining Targaryens from Dragonstone. An _island_.”

“And since when do lords take battle advice from smugglers?”

“Since this Baratheon realized that a man doesn’t need titles to have intelligence and common sense.”

The pirate’s eyebrows rose at that, and Davos finally got a chance to say what he had prepared to say to Salladhor Saan ever since he had sailed out of Storm’s End sans his left fingertips.

“Really, Salla, I don’t _care_ about the ‘Ser.’ But I do care about my family, and accepting Stannis Baratheon’s rewards with all the terms that came with them are more for my sons’ sake than my own. My four boys will now grow up as knight’s sons on their own land, with their father in the service of a lord rather than constantly running away from them! As well, they will never have to fear for their father being executed for his crimes by a lord, with the protection I have from Lord Stannis. That’s something that even you yourself, with all you wealth and connections, could never have given me.”

“I see,” said Salla coldly, one of the few times Davos had heard the pirate speak without merriment in his voice. “So what is your Lord Stannis like? Is he a strong man like his kingly brother? And how do you know that he’ll keep his word, that he won’t have you strung up like a common criminal when these other lords are laughing at him for rewarding a smuggler?”

“As for his strength, I have no idea how Lord Stannis compares to King Robert. But I do know that he is not easily daunted by others, or else Storm’s End would have been in the hands of the Tyrells and Targaryens long ago. And how do I know that he’ll keep his word?” Davos paused. _You haven’t met him, Salla. You didn’t see his resolution when I told him that he should wield the cleaver himself. You haven’t seen how he wants me to meets his eyes when talking to him, and how he always considers what I have to say despite me not being his equal in rank._ “Lord Stannis has treated me fairly in these months that I’ve known him, and he has shown me respect.”

“So you trust him?”

“Not yet.” _Not until I fully get the measure of the man. There’s something that Stannis keeps hidden behind those hard eyes of his, and I wish to find out what._

“What about dear Salladhor Saan?”

“Not yet.”

Salladhor Saan chuckled and seemed to be back to his old self. “I wouldn’t be trusting myself either! Trust can be a very dangerous thing, Davos, remember that. Truth too, for not many men would say that to my face even if they _did_ feel that way.”

“Aye, I will.”

“So, Ser Davos, you must be getting off to a coronation, yes? I’m guessing you will not be buying any of my cargoes anytime soon, but be sure to keep in touch with your friend in Lys. I’ll be visiting these new lands of yours soon, to see if your Lord Stannis keeps his word to you.”

“As you will,” Davos grinned. “But make sure you’re on lawful business, for I’d rather not see my fingers shortened any further.”

“Some of those who’ve wronged me have found themselves shortened by a head, yes, but I’ve never ordered for a man’s fingers to be taken!”

As Davos saw himself off of Salladhor Saan’s striped ship, he reflected back on all the things that had happened to him since he had loaded up his black ship with as much food as he could carry and headed to Storm’s End. In truth, most everything had been a blur, but the thing he remembered most clearly was first meeting Stannis Baratheon. The lordling had seen twenty namedays at the most, yet he unquestionably held the command and respect of all the men in the garrison. Stannis was very tall and towered over all the men around him, and his raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes made him look like a warrior from the tales of old, save that he was entirely too skinny—likely the result of no having eaten a proper meal in nearly a year.

When Lord Stannis had informed Davos that he would be attending King Robert’s coronation and wedding with him as both a knight and an honored guest, Davos had initially balked and told his lord that he wasn’t worthy of the honor. Stannis wouldn’t hear of it.

_“Do you think that Robert single-handedly won his rebellion? You deserve as much credit as Ned Stark, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully, and all those other heroes that fought for Robert. For without you, Storm’s End would have fallen and the Targaryens might still be wreaking havoc from Dragonstone.”_

_“You honor me, my lord, but those feats that you credit me with are more yours than mine.”_

_Stannis gave him an odd look._

_“Yes, but as I said, glory rarely belongs to one man alone. Whether you meant to or not, you earned your place here, Ser Davos, don’t let any of the highborn fools that you meet tell you otherwise.”_

_Davos made a non-committal sound and didn’t meet his lord’s eyes._

_“What’s bothering you? I can tell that there is more that you wish to say to me, and I’d hear it.”_

_“I don’t have anything proper to wear, nor yet the coin to buy any clothes worthy of the Red Keep.”_

_Ordinarily, Davos didn’t give much thought to his clothing and had no vain streak like Salladhor Saan. As long as his clothes kept him warm and didn’t have too many holes, he was happy. Besides, a good set of clothes cost a sizable portion of money, which was why most men in his circumstances rarely had more than two sets. Out on the seas he had no need to look like a prince, and in Flea Bottom any outward show of wealth only made a man more vulnerable to attackers. But this coronation…all the important men in Westeros would be in attendance, and Davos was an honored guest of no less than the king’s own brother. He could not afford to receive ridicule over something as insignificant as his appearance, though he knew that he would receive no love for his background._

_Davos could feel Stannis’ eyes roving over him, studying everything from his worn boots to the wooden clasp of his cloak, as if it was the first time he ever considered the matter._

_“Generally, I don’t put much stock in this ‘It’s the clothes that make the man’ nonsense, but you do have a point. And since you’re_ my _knight, it would reflect badly upon me if you looked like something that I had just dragged out of Flea Bottom.”_

Well, I look pretty good for someone from Flea Bottom! And that’s essentially what you just did, my lord, _thought Davos. If he were speaking to any other man he would have told him that and laughed about it. But Stannis didn’t seem like the type of man to appreciate a comment like that._

_Stannis crossed his arms and bit his lip in annoyance. He began to pace back and forth._

_“What are the colors of your new house?”_

_“Black and gray, my lord. And white, for the onion.”_

_“Thank the gods you didn’t choose something outlandish like purple and scarlet.”_

Or Baratheon gold? _Davos wondered._

_“Those are easy colors to find,” continued Stannis. “I’ll get you some decent clothes, most of all a proper cloak, even if I have to look in my own things.”_

_“My lord, even if I look the part of a knight, I’ll never be seen as one.”_

_“My brother Robert is a hotheaded fool, but as long as he looks the part of a king, he will be_ seen _as a king. That’s all that matters at events like these, where people allow themselves to be blinded to a man’s true nature by all the finery he wears. I would not worry overmuch, Ser Davos.”_

_“Because you think you know my true nature, my lord? Or because I can see yours despite how brilliant your cloth-of-gold cloak is?”_

_Stannis blinked. “You presume too much. And even if you’re correct, most men won’t appreciate being told the truth to their faces.”_

_“And what about you, my lord? What do you think about the truth?” Davos knew he should have kept silent, but his interest was piqued._

_Stannis considered the question. “The hard truths are the ones to hold tight to, no matter how much it hurts. If you hold to that, Davos, then I hope to value your council for many years to come.”_

Years later, Davos liked to think that conversation was where the friendship between him and Stannis Baratheon had truly begun.

 

FIVE YEARS AFTER THE STORM’S END SIEGE

 

“I am hearing that you attended another royal wedding! You are becoming quite popular with these highborn lords, I am thinking. And you should have convinced Lord Stannis to let you bring Salladhor Saan as a guest, for I would very much have liked to see the inside of the Red Keep!”

“Most of these highborn lords would rather I didn’t exist, actually,” responded Davos. “I would be quite happy to spare them my company as well.”

“Then why bother? Or are you hoping to rise to be a lord one day?”

“You know that I don’t, Salla. I only bother because I wish to do my duty to my lord, and he wished me to be present at the occasion.”

The pirate scoffed at that. “Have you been listening to yourself speak lately, I am wondering? _‘I wish to do my duty to my lord’_? When did Davos the smuggler ever say something like that?”

Davos ignored him. “I respect Lord Stannis, and I attended his wedding because…” _Because I’m his loyal friend,_ Davos was tempted to say. _But Stannis doesn’t consider anyone a friend, at least not openly_.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Davos finally settled on.

_The whole evening had been a miserable affair._

_King Robert Baratheon wanted to strengthen the Crown’s relations with the lords of the Reach, and a quick way to do that was to marry off Stannis to some maiden with a good name and rich dowry. The king first wished Stannis to marry one of Mace Tyrell’s sisters, but Stannis had flatly refused, as Davos recalled:_

_“I’ve always known that my marriage would be a political one, Ser Davos, but taking the Black seems a more agreeable prospect than having Mace Tyrell as a good-brother. The man and his army nearly starved me to death, along with Renly and the whole garrison at Storm’s End, something that Robert conveniently forgets. If it were up to me, the Tyrells would have been forced to starve in Highgarden with an army besieging_ them _after the war.”_

_So King Robert struck a deal with Lord Florent instead, arranging for Stannis to marry the Lord of Brightwater Keep’s niece. The wedding was held at the Red Keep, for the king had no desire to set a foot on Dragonstone with all of its stone dragons. Any reminder of the Targaryens made him lose his temper and want to either hit something with his war hammer or drink himself into oblivion._

_As Davos watched his lord and new bride enter the great sept of the Red Keep, he couldn’t help but notice that Stannis nevertheless looked as though taking the Black would be preferable to what he was about to go through. His whole body was tense, and his black and gold finery might as well have been plate mail based on how stiffly he walked. Stannis caught Davos’ eyes as he approached the altar, and Davos could do nothing more than give a small smile and nod. Even that felt absurd to do, for what was a smuggler supposed to say to a lord on his wedding day?_

_The following feast and dancing went well enough in Davos’ mind, though he wasn’t sitting at the high table, given his low rank. Every time he glanced at the high table that evening, the only person who looked more miserable than Stannis was Queen Cersei, and even her expression lightened when her brother Ser Jaime asked her to dance._

_The wine had been flowing for awhile before Stannis finally approached him._

_“I must offer you my congratulations, my lord. Your new bride seems to be enjoying herself.”_

_“Yes,” mumbled Stannis, as both he and Davos watched Lady Selsye dancing with her brother Imry out on the floor._

_“I’m sure things won’t be as awkward as you think, once you two get to know each other better,” Davos said. He didn’t understand why Stannis should be in such a dour mood at his own wedding. Maybe it was the large crowd and being at the center of attention that he didn’t like._

_“Let’s hope,” replied Stannis, not entirely convinced. “What was your wedding like, Ser Davos? I daresay there was a lot less people.”_

_Davos smiled. “Naturally; I was just Davos the smuggler then. And there were no cloaks to exchange in a sept either, just a septon putting mine and Marya’s hands together. Marya’s family, many of my crew, and even the Lysene pirate Salladhor Saan joined us in a tavern, where a group of fiddlers played all night.” Davos’ most fond memory of the night had been dancing with Marya and seeing her face light up again and again when he kissed her._

_Stannis’ mouth curved upward slightly._

_“That seems like an enjoyable occasion, and I know decorum wouldn’t have stopped you from seating a former smuggler at your table.” He glanced around the room._

_“Have you seen Robert recently, Ser Davos?”_

_Davos shook his head and watched Stannis walk away and out of the reception room. He helped himself to a glass of fine Dornish red wine and continued to inconspicuously watch the dancing._

_Perhaps a half hour later, Davos noticed Stannis reenter the room, his face flooded with fury. Stannis roved his eyes around the room, and when he spotted Ser Jaime Lannister dancing with Queen Cersei, he marched straight toward the couple and angrily whispered something in the knight’s ear. The queen seemed bewildered at the interruption, but when Jaime hastily apologized to her and bowed to Stannis before swiftly walking out of the room, she gave Stannis a death glare and stalked off to the high table where she quickly downed a glass of wine. The whole court had stopped to stare at Stannis, and even the musicians had stopped their playing._

_Stannis seemed to sense all the eyes on him, and Davos wondered what had just happened to make his lord the personification of the Baratheon house words “Ours is the Fury.”_

_“Carry on!” barked Stannis. “Nothing so dire has happened to merit concern or to stop this wedding. My brother the king has simply”—Davos detected a slight pause—“drunk too much wine.” And with that, Stannis turned on his heel and walked out of the room again, his black and gold cloak flying behind him._

_Though something inside of him kept telling his that it wasn’t his place, Davos walked out of the room as well once the music had begun again. He didn’t know where his lord had stalked off to, but he had a good idea—there was a small, southeast-facing balcony on top on the tower furthest away from the king’s chambers, and on clear days Davos swore that he could see all the way to Cape Wrath._ Or Storm’s End, in Stannis’ case.

_When Davos climbed one further flight of stairs and pushed open a heavy door, he knew that his guess had been correct. Stannis was standing with his back toward him, both elbows resting on the balcony wall as he stared off into the direction of Storm’s End._

_“Ser Davos, there was no need to follow me.” said Stannis without turning around._

_Davos was a bit startled. “How…how did you know it was me, my lord?”_

_“I don’t think another soul in this castle knows about this balcony or my fondness for it, save for you and the seabirds. And it’s too early for the bedding anyway, as my brother the_ king _,” Stannis spat, “wishes to make himself more presentable for the occasion, which will take him some time.”_

_“Is the king well? You informed the court that he had drunk too much wine.”_

_Stannis gave a bitter, cutting laugh. “As he always does, whenever the occasion presents itself.” Davos noticed that Stannis’ large hands were gripping the balcony wall as if he wished to crumble it._

_Without further prompting, Stannis told Davos the whole sordid tale of how he discovered King Robert bedding Delena Florent in the very same bedchamber he was expecting to share with his bride that night. Robert had apparently laughed when Stannis had yelled at him, urging Stannis to bring up his new bride and join in on the fun. Davos silently listened with horror as Stannis spoke, and from what he knew of the ways of court, he predicted that the whole city would know of King Robert’s shame and Lord Stannis’ humiliation by the next morning._

_“And I thought doing my duty and marrying a complete stranger for the good of House Baratheon was a miserable enough prospect! And with my luck a bastard will be born from Robert’s folly to forever remind me of this night! The only consolation I have from this mess is that Robert was only with my bride’s cousin, not my bride herself.”_

_That was horrible consolation, if Davos would say so himself._

_Davos had seen how his lord would incessantly dwell on all the slights against him, whether real or not. And most of the slights usually had to do with King Robert, namely when the king had given Storm’s End to Renly instead of Stannis, as Stannis had expected. Davos knew that Stannis would never get over the Storm’s End issue, and now his wedding night would likely be placed in the same category. If only he could stop Stannis from being so miserable about everything…_

_Davos took Stannis by the shoulders and lightly turned his lord so that his eyes were facing him. And then Davos began to speak, hard truths that he prayed Stannis wouldn’t be angered by._

_“It might be best just to forget this night and move on. Gods know that brooding over all the injustices we’ve suffered only gets us so far! There are so many good things going for you in life: You’re a lord of the realm with a place on the king’s council, and who’s to say that you won’t find more happiness with your bride than I have with my Marya? Or even that you won’t have more sons than I have?”_

_Even though Stannis was staring straight at him, there was a faraway, lonely look in his eyes that broke Davos’ heart to see. In truth, Stannis looked nothing like the lord he was, and in Davos’ eyes he looked more like the frightened and starving young man he had met at Storm’s End that one night not five years ago. And so Davos addressed him as such, telling his lord what he thought to be at the crux of all his misery:_

_“I promise you that one day, Stannis, you will receive the love and respect that you truly deserve.”_

_Stannis blinked and looked at Davos like he was seeing him properly for the first time. His left hand rose to cover Davos’ maimed left hand, which was currently resting on his right shoulder, and held onto it like a drowning man would hold an anchor. Stannis sighed and leaned forward ever so slightly, resting his forehead against Davos’._

_The two stood like that for what seemed to Davos an eternity, and Davos had never before been so aware of another._

_“Thank you, Davos, for the faith that you have in this world, for the faith that you seem to have in me,” said Stannis softly, and Davos could feel the breath of every word against his face. Stannis raised his right hand and brushed it gently against the side of Davos’ neck. Davos kept his eyes determinably closed, for he feared that were he to open them and see his lord’s piercing blue ones looking back at him, he might be tempted to…_

He is so close…

_Then suddenly, as if lightning had struck him, Stannis dropped his hands and turned away from Davos, quickly walking to the other side of the small balcony. All the while, Stannis was shaking his head, angrily running his hands through his hair, and breathing rather heavily._

_“Is everything alright, St…my lord?” said Davos in a soft voice. He was aware that his breathing was none to steady either._

_When Stannis looked back at him, his expression was unreadable. “I think it is time for us to return to the feast, as my brother the king will be down shortly to call for the bedding.” And with that, Stannis disappeared down the tower, only once looking back to see if Davos was following him._

_~_

_The next afternoon, after the court had gotten back to its normal state after the occasion of the wedding, Stannis called Davos up to his solar. By his appearance, Stannis looked nothing like a man who had gotten married the previous day. Most men would have spent the day with their brides, and most men would have a smile lighting up their faces. Of course, Davos thought, Stannis was as different from “most men” as a man could get, for he spent the day after his wedding seeing to his responsibilities as Master of Ships like the day was nothing special, and tension took the place of a smile._

_“I owe you an apology, Ser Davos.”_

_Davos was puzzled._

_“Whatever for, my lord?”_

_“I acted shamefully last night, and I was too sober to blame my actions solely on the wine, which makes things even more disgraceful. I let my emotions control me like a marionette, when I should have just ignored my damn brother. As well, I,” Stannis took a deep breath “I nearly betrayed your trust.”_

_Davos met Stannis’ eyes, and it was a long time before either spoke._ He must be thinking back to the time we spent out on the balcony, where he nearly…well. I can see why he would be ashamed of himself, for a lord is never supposed to act so familiar with his knight, especially on his wedding night. Though I wonder if he even kissed Lady Selsye last night…

_Stannis turned away from him and clenched his hands._

_“My lord, if you ever did that I would surely tell…”_

_“I nearly crossed a line I should have never even been_ aware _of,” Stannis sharply replied. “That will not happen again, for as I said, I will not betray the trust you have given me. Even when I might not deserve it.”_

_“You deserve it, my lord. If no one else does, you do.” Davos was tempted to call Stannis by his name again, but that might remind his lord of what he seemed so determined to forget._

_~_

_Yes, the wedding had altogether been a miserable affair, and Davos didn’t know who he pitied the most—King Robert for showing Westeros how incapable he was of controlling his desires, young Selsye Florent in tears on her wedding day, or Stannis, his lord, who had looked more vulnerable than the starving young man Davos had first met during the Storm’s End siege._

_And to top off the whole fiasco, Davos didn’t know whether or not to feel ashamed of himself for thinking that he wouldn’t have pulled away if Stannis Baratheon’s lips had indeed brushed against his._

“You didn’t miss anything at the wedding, Salla, truly.”

 

ELEVEN YEARS AFTER THE STORM’S END SIEGE

 

“Father! Look at that handsome ship in the bay! Is it perhaps one of Lord Stannis’?” shouted Devan.

Davos and his three youngest sons were walking along the walls of his keep on Cape Wrath. His older three were at Dragonstone, the Red Keep, or somewhere on the seas in service of the King’s and Lord Stannis’ fleets. His keep sat on a hill overlooking a small bay where a number of ships were currently anchored. He was holding little Stanny’s hand as Maric and Devan were climbing on everything a hair taller than themselves.

Davos glanced at the ship that Devan had pointed to, and at the colorfully dressed man who was making his way up the main road to the keep with a retinue of guards in tow.

“It’s not Lord Stannis who has come to see us, boys, but a man who is decidedly his opposite in every way.”

“You mean that pirate you always talk about? And who visited us once before and gave us those strange colorful sweets?” exclaimed Maric.

“I am not _just_ a pirate, but a prince!” chuckled Salladhor Saan as he came within earshot. He smiled at Davos, who was happy to see that his friend hadn’t changed a bit. In his opinion of himself, at least.

“My dear Ser! And my little future Sers, it is a pleasure to see you again, or perhaps for the first time, hmm?

Salla took the time to ruffle Maric and Devan’s hair before turning to Stanny, whom Davos had picked up.

“And this is…”

“I’m Stanny!” said the little boy with nearly black hair, many shades darker than that of his father or older brothers.

“This is young Stannis,” added Davos, fondly smiling at his little son. “Now tell Salladhor Saan how many namedays you’ve had.”

“I just had my third nameday!”

Salladhor ruffled Stanny’s hair and smiled at him like he had at Davos’ other boys, but this time the pirate’s smile died before it reached his eyes. Thankfully, Marya appeared to make Salla’s smile go true again.

“My lady! It is so wonderful to see you again, after so many years!” The pirate bowed and took off his feathered cap, and then swept her up into a big hug and gave her multiple kisses on both of her cheeks until she blushed.

“You of all people don’t have to call me ‘my lady,’ Salla!” laughed Marya.

“Oh, but I do! You’re more worthy of that title than many of these so called ‘ladies’ in Westeros!”

“That’s enough, Salla,” said Davos firmly, as Marya continued to blush. “Save those words for your wives back in Lys. How many do you have now?”

~

Later that evening, Davos and Salladhor Saan walked along the deck of his ship, the _Lady Marya_. It was a handsome ship, Davos thought, and in the coming years he hoped it would be joined by those of his sons. Lord Stannis had commissioned a number of new ships to be built for his fleet at Dragonstone, and he was of a mind to make Davos’ two oldest sons captains, since they were showing much promise in the royal fleet.

Salladhor Saan hadn’t said much, which was saying something, since he was usually enamored with the sound of his own voice.

After some time, the pirate finally spoke. “So you named your son after him.”

By the look on Salla’s face, and in the odd way that the pirate had smiled at young Stannis, Davos didn’t need to ask which “him” was being referred to.

“After all you’ve given the man, after all your years of loyal service, the Lord of Dragonstone still requires that you curry favor with him in such obvious ways?”

“No. The more a man tries to outwardly curry favor with him, the more Lord Stannis distrusts the man and thinks the he has some ulterior motive.”

“So he isn’t thinking that you are having ulterior motives, yes?”

“What more could I want? I have a strong keep, a good ship, fine sons who have a good life ahead of them, and a high place in my lord’s council. In truth, Lord Stannis was rather pleased that I wanted to name a son after him. I simply told him that I wished to name my son after a man I felt was honorable and just, and whom I held great respect for.”

Stannis had also given Davos a rare smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, which Davos neglected to tell Salla.

_“Were it any man other than you, Ser Davos, I would ask him what game he was playing, naming a son after me. Why wouldn’t he want to name the son after Robert, or young Renly, who are open handed in their favor and praise and who know how to insinuate themselves into the hearts of men?”_

_“Not all men are devious and seeking power. Perhaps another man would wish to show how much he respects you, how much he would wish one of his sons to grow up to be a just man such as yourself.”_

_Stannis gave Davos a wide smile and shook his head, placing a hand on Davos’ shoulder. “Those types of men are hard to find, but I am fortunate to have found such a man.”_

_Davos didn’t quite know how to respond, so bewildered he was to see Stannis in such a—dare he say happy?—mood._

_“If if my wife is to give me another child, I’ll name a girl after your lady wife.”_

_Stannis’ smile turned into a frown, an expression Davos was more used to seeing._

_“I am sorry if I have displeased…”_

_“My mother,” began Stannis, cutting Davos off, “was a very beautiful and kind woman. Cassana, her name was, Cassana of House Estermont. I am sorry that you never had the honor of meeting her.”_

_“Then if I have a daughter, I’ll name her after your lady mother.”_

_“That sounds like a fine plan.”_

_“I’m sure you’ll have more children soon. Shireen is naught but two years old.”_

_“Well, when I do, I won’t be naming any of them after Robert. Ned Stark has already done that, and he’s the only man who Robert really respects anyway. Just, dutiful, Ned Stark, who names two sons after the great King Robert Baratheon and Lord Jon Arryn.” Davos could hear the bitterness in Stannis’ every word. He thought this odd, for he knew that Stannis respected Lord Stark. Maybe the bitterness was due to Robert giving Stark the lion’s share of the credit for breaking the Storm’s End siege? Or was there more to it than that?_

_Stannis seemed to realize that he still had his hand on Davos’ shoulder. He quickly removed it and turned away to look toward the sea, as he was wont to do when he had much on his mind._

_“I think I shall visit your keep on Cape Wrath soon, Ser Davos, and give your lady wife my respects in person.”_

_Davos was surprised at that, and his mouth curved up into a smile of his own. Stannis had visited his keep twice before—once after the war to see him settled on the lands, and once more in conjunction with business to Storm’s End. If Davos was not mistaken, this was one of the first personal trips Stannis had ever made, and he felt rather touched._

_“I will certainly enjoy…My Lady Marya will certainly be honored by your visit, my lord.”_

_When Stannis turned around and saw Davos smiling at him, Stannis hastily added: “I need to go by Storm’s End regardless, for the castellan has some difficulties that need to be solved. And gods know Renly is too young to deal with them.”_

_“But of course, my lord.”_

Salla sighed. “Well, you could always have done worse. Some of my pirate friends think I am rather conceited for naming multiple ships after myself.”

Davos raised an eyebrow. “So how many _Salladhor Saans_ are out on the seas?”

“Not enough, nor will there ever be,” Salla grinned in reply. “Would any of your sons want to serve with my fleet when they get older? They might want be wanting some excitement, to see places other than Westeros!”

“Lord Stannis’ ships and those of the royal fleet occasionally go across to the Free Cities,” said Davos lightly. “And, well, I would rather that my sons aren’t tempted into becoming pirates or smugglers.”

“You are saying that _Lord Stannis_ would not approve of your sons serving the Prince of the Narrow Sea, yes?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But I can tell that you are meaning that.” An uncharacteristic frown graced Salla’s face.

“Very well, I meant that my sons have more opportunities than I ever did growing up, thanks to Lord Stannis, and I do not wish for them to waste them and end up on the Wall for smuggling. That’s what I gave my fingertips for, remember?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten that, _Ser_ Davos, nor have I forgotten Lord Stannis. I am happy that he is keeping his word to you at least, with your nice lands, castle, and ship. But when did you become so humble, and such a _kept_ creature, who doesn’t do anything until his master orders it?”

“Salla…”

“No, don’t answer that,” he answered with a wave of his hand.

_Oh, but I will,_ thought Davos. _I’m loyal to Stannis, yes, but I don’t blindly follow the man and do everything he tells me to do without question!_

For the rest of his visit, Salladhor Saan made no more mention of Stannis Baratheon and was his normal, jovial self around Davos and his family. But Davos would not forget his friend’s reaction to little Stanny’s name and the frowns that appeared on his face when he had spoken of Stanny’s namesake.

It was odd, noted Davos, for lately every rare smile he received from Stannis Baratheon seemed to be accompanied by one more rare frown from Salladhor Saan.

 

SEVENTEEN YEARS AFTER THE STORM’S END SIEGE

 

“So it’s not only _Ser_ Davos, but _Lord_ Davos and _Lord Hand_? Who convinced King Stannis to sail for the _Wall_ of all places?” said Salladhor Saan with astonishment.

“I never asked for those honors, Salla, and you know that.”

“You seemed quite excited at the prospect of becoming _Prince_ Davos of the Narrow Sea one day, if I remember correctly.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Yes, before you met your Lord Stannis. Or King Stannis, I should say. What’s he king of now, if I may ask? And after your four oldest sons burned on the Blackwater, what chance does he have of being king of more than this little dragon-rock? What will that red-eyed sorceress whisper in his ear next? To burn you for a favorable wind?” There was a hint of malice in Salladhor Saan’s voice.

“King Stannis would never do such a thing, no matter what Lady Melisandre might say,” insisted Davos.

“What makes you so sure that a man who cut off your fingertips and kept you in his dungeons wouldn’t go that far, if the right person could convince him?”

“I don’t believe he even knew that I was in his dungeons until Ser Axell or Lady Melisandre or _someone_ told him, given at how shocked he seemed to see me returned from the Blackwater. Stannis told me that it doesn’t matter that I trust Lady Melisandre so little, so long as I continue being true and loyal to him.”

Davos could still hear Stannis’ words in his ears: _“A few good men remain, it’s true…but I trust none of them as I trust you, my lord of Rainwood. You will be my Hand. It is you I want beside me for the battle.”_

“Oh, so it’s _Stannis_ now, my Lord Hand?”

“Come now, Salla, when did you ever care about titles during a conversation between two old friends?”

“Never, but the lack of titles can be just as meaningful. You can drop a title to insult someone or express a heightened familiarity. Tell me, did you forgo his titles when you would speak with him for hours on end, back in Storm’s End, at King’s Landing, or here on Dragonstone? And how does he address you, my friend? Are you always his _Ser_ Davos, ‘smuggler,’ or simply ‘Davos’?”

“I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

Salla gave Davos an odd look, as if he were desperate to say something but knew that that something would be unpleasant. Davos didn’t like the direction that this conversation was taking.

Impatient, Davos replied: “ _Fine_ , if you must know, I called him by his name and his name only just once in the seventeen years that I have known him. He addresses me as the occasion sees fit, depending on the company we’re in. Are you pleased now?”

Salladhor Saan didn’t meet his eyes, instead becoming very interested with the jeweled rings on his fingers.

“Do you have any _idea_ about what is being said behind your back…”

“That I’m a bloodthirsty criminal who’s hoodwinked King Stannis and will soon rob him blind?” interjected Davos. Accusations like that were nothing he hadn’t heard before, from the Queen’s Men, from Queen Selsye and her family, aye, from many of the lords and knights in King Robert’s court—though never from Jon Arryn or Ned Stark, but men like them seemed to be dying at an alarming rate these days. _And I might as well, if my luck was forever lost at the Blackwater._

But Salla kept speaking as if he hadn’t heard him, raising both the volume and harshness of his voice.

“…by all these highborn lords and your former smugly friends? Have you ever given any thought to the years you’ve spent at your King Stannis’ side, all those nights you two spent locked up in his chambers _talking_? Or the fact that the man shuns his wife, outlaws whores on his island, and likely hasn’t bedded a woman since his sickly daughter was born? Yet _Stannis_ always finds time for you, Davos, always finds a way to gift you lands, ships, titles…what would be the reason for that?”

 _Because Stannis trusts me and because I tell him the truth?_ Davos was ready to throw back at Salla’s last comment, but then Salla’s other words started to ring in his ears and gave him pause. _Shuns his wife… always finds time for you…hasn’t bedded a woman since…all those nights you two spent locked up…_

Davos’ eyes widened at the implications. The pirate seemed amused by his shocked expression, and gave a vicious laugh, so unlike his usually jovial ones.

“You can’t possibly think…”

“I am not knowing what to think any more! I know how much you are loving your wife, with all the sons she’s given you. But I just don’t know how to add all these things up—me, who knows how to keep accounts as well as any Master of Coin!”

“How _dare_ you imply such things, not simply about me, but about the king?” replied Davos in a voice as cold as ice and laced with fury. “How _dare_ you propose that either of us would _ever_ dishonor our wives in such a disgraceful fashion, knowing full well what the consequences of our actions would be?”

Davos was shouting now, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember when he had last lost his temper. He prided himself on being a man who let logic rule his actions more often than emotions, for emotional men often did rash things that left them as rotting corpses. But _damn_ those who were spreading such rumors, and _damn_ Salla for undeservingly insulting both him and Stannis in one fell swoop!

“Why does there have to be something sinister behind my relationship with Stannis Baratheon? What would all of Westeros say if they knew that he made me his Hand because he simply _trusts_ me more than he ever has anyone else, just as King Robert Baratheon did with Ned Stark? Why can’t I simply be what I am—his loyal and true friend?”

“Why indeed,” Salladhor Saan replied quietly, staring at Davos intently.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I will see you at Eastwatch, my Lord Hand.”

~

That night, Davos slept fitfully, replaying his fight—yes, fight!—with Salladhor Saan in his mind. He couldn’t believe that this is what things had come to, that a friend of thirty years had caused him to lose his temper and shout. _I really have lost my luck with my finger bones._ The pirate simply didn’t understand or care about anything more complicated than gold, Davos was more convinced than ever.

And the accusations about him and King Stannis…that was what had rankled Davos the most. They reminded him of things that he would rather forget, or at least told himself to, such as Stannis’ wedding night. Or the many times throughout the years when they had smiled at each other or when Davos had put his hand on Stannis’ shoulder or Stannis had on his. _Salla is a man who hugs and kisses everyone, yet for Stannis seemingly every type of human contact is unusual. He’s scared of letting anyone get close to him, either physically or emotionally! Yet he’s taken me into his confidence ever since the Storm’s End siege…What would have happened if either Stannis or I had leaned forward ever so slightly on his wedding night, or any other night after that? Would that have ruined everything between us, or perhaps…not?_

But even if there were such feelings between them, Davos doubted that either of them would ever have the courage to act upon them—for the sake of propriety, their wives, or the simple fear of being spurned. In truth, Davos was content with how things were between him and Stannis, given that he could get rid of Melisandre’s sinister influence, for not every love was made to be between the sheets. Yes, he had to be content.

~

Davos should have seen the end coming, should have seen it when Salladhor Saan didn’t get the chests of gold that he was expecting from the sack of King’s Landing that never happened. But he was here at the end of his friendship with Salla nevertheless, out on the sea with the lights of the miserable Three Sisters in the distance. After leaving Eastwatch, Salla had informed Davos that he was done with King Stannis, and that he was taking the remnants of his fleet back to Lys where he would find rest and solid _gold_ , gold above all. As a token of their friendship, Davos would be let off in a small boat as near to White Harbor as the Lyseni dared to go to continue his service to King Stannis.

Unless Davos made a different decision.

The sky was dark, and the water was choppy and the color of slate. Davos and Salla were standing on the prow of one of Salla’s ships together, and the pirate was doing his best to convince Davos to forget King Stannis once and for all as well.

“We aren’t what we once were, Davos. Is this truly what you want? To be caught up in all these games that these kings are playing, ones where you can lose everything but never truly win? I’m content when the day comes to retire to a large manse in Lys with all my wives. When you took Lord Stannis’ offer to become a Ser, I thought that maybe that’s all Davos wants, a strong keep to raise his sons in? But as the years have gone by, I am finding it harder to explain all of your actions concerning Lord and now King Stannis! Yes, you say he gave you a gift. I’ve given and received many gifts, but I don’t expect either party to still be repaying the gift close to twenty years later! You’ve paid him back more than he deserves, even giving him the lives of your sons. There might be nothing unseemly about your relationship with your king, but he’s more to you than just your liege. You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you? As you used to want to do for Salladhor Saan?”

The pirate seemed genuinely sad, though he was doing his best to hide it. For once, his eyes failed to match the sparkle of his clothes.

“I want you to make a choice, yes, for you always seem to be wavering between what your king wants and what you want. You would want nothing more than to go home to your wife and children, and to see them grow up into fine young men, am I thinking rightly? And perhaps to take them on adventures to the Free Cities and the distant lands of Essos one day? King Stannis will want you to go on errand after errand for him, talking to lords who care as little for him as they do about upjumped smugglers. And when you’re back at his side, what awaits you? A frozen hell after the fiery hell on the Blackwater, and what friend will be there to save you this time, I am wondering?”

Salla paused and continued to look hard at Davos, as if his stare could turn back all the years to before the Storm’s End siege. That’s what everything always came down to, when their friendship had started to sour—when Davos had met Stannis Baratheon and taken up his offer instead of Salladhor Saan’s.

“Come to Lys with me, and we’ll collect your wife and children at Cape Wrath along the way. You’ll get a fine ship built for you, and you’ll never have to worry about this game of thrones that these Westerosi never tire of playing. I’m sick of it, or at least sick of not being on the more profitable side. That’s why I’m sailing away, and why you should too.”

Salla made everything sound so easy. And maybe things would be, if he made the choice that the pirate so wanted him to make. As Davos thought, memories flooded through his head, along with the words of the three people he had always looked up to and held in the greatest respect:

_“And maybe one day, little Davos, you will come to captain a great ship for a kind and just king and to father sons who will never know what it’s like to be hungry.”_

_“…we’ll see if Westeros doesn’t remember you as Prince Davos of the Narrow Sea.”_

_“…I trust none of them as I trust you…It is you I want beside me for the battle.”_

Davos closed his eyes. If leaving Westeros was the easy choice, why did he have so many reservations? Why did he feel that no matter what became of him, that he would rue that decision for the rest of his days?

“Are you asking me to betray my king, my liege lord who raised me up from dirt to his Hand, who not only gave my family a good home and myself a place at his side—but who gave me his trust as well?”

“No. I’m asking you to think of _yourself_ for once, and of what may happen to you when your King Stannis loses his head and the lions continue their dance. Whatever happened to that brash smuggler I once knew, whose grin got wider with the amount of danger of his next mission? To the cocky young man who got past the blockade at Storm’s End during its siege—and laughed about it?”

“I am not the same man.” There was a lengthy pause, and Davos and Salladhor Saan stared at each other for a long time. The pirate dropped his eyes.

“Aye,” spat Salla. “I’ve known that ever since you showed me your shortened fingers all those years ago. You’re not a smuggler anymore, no matter what any of those pretty lords on their jeweled thrones might think. You’re Stannis Baratheon’s man through and through.”

Out of everything that he had heard, all the slights and insults whispered behind his back, even the malicious gossip that Salla recently informed him of, this cut the hardest. _Not a smuggler anymore? That’s who I’ve been since before I was a man grown, even if I’ve stayed within the law for near on two decades. Why can’t I be both, both a smuggler and Stannis’ man? I_ know _that I can be both. And more importantly, I_ want _to be both._

“I hope he’s worth it, my friend, I really do. Don’t you _dare_ seek me out again, unless King Stannis has those chests of gold that he is owing me, or if you still want that handsome ship in Lys that I promised you all those years ago. An offer from Salladhor Saan is never taken back, even if I want nothing better than to throw you from my ship right this moment.”

He held out his hand to Davos, and when Davos made no move to take it, Salladhor Saan gave one final, exasperated sigh.

“So you’re still of the same mind?”

_Am I still a fool who loves his king too much? Aye. The things we love might destroy us, but I pray not this time._

Davos nodded, pulled his cloak tight around him, made sure his papers and seals from Stannis were safe, and rowed his little boat out into the approaching storm.

~

“Kings have no friends,” Stannis said bluntly, “only subjects and enemies.”  
Stannis to Catelyn, _A Clash of Kings_ Catelyn III

“She [Melisandre] knows I am no friend to her or her red god.”  
“But you are a friend to me.”  
Davos to Stannis, _A Storm of Swords_ Davos IV

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. “The things we love destroy us every time….See that you never forget it. The hard truths are the ones to hold tight.”  
> Jeor Mormont, _A Game of Thrones_ Jon IX
> 
> Out of the many themes and messages in the ASOIAF series, the quote above is one that stands out the most for me, for who, how, and how much we love someone often dictates our actions above all other things. In context, Jeor Mormont uses the quote to describe Jorah’s love for Lynesse Hightower and Jon’s love for Ned, but really, I feel that it can be applied to most every character/group of characters. Particularly, Ned’s promise to Lyanna (regardless if it was to keep R + L = J secret or not), Ned’s confession to the Lannisters for Sansa, Jon’s actions in ADWD to save “Arya Stark”—and Davos’ friendship with Stannis come to mind when I read the quote. I’ve always thought that the last sentence was something that Davos or Stannis would say, so it’s still a surprise to me that the former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch said them.
> 
>  
> 
> 2\. Davos’ concerns about being able to afford a nice set of clothes for King Robert’s coronation and wedding are legitimate. In this day and age, clothes are absurdly cheap in comparison to hourly/yearly wages, and (at least in the Western countries) it isn’t as easy to tell someone’s wealth or social status solely based on what they’re wearing. I’ve read a number of books that focus on what life for the “common” man was like in medieval times ( _The Year 1000_ by Danzinger and Lacey and _1215: The Year of the Magna Carta_ by Danzinger and Gillingham are enjoyable and easy to read), and some mention that the cost of a full set of clothing, depending on the quality, would be a significant part of a man’s yearly salary—and perhaps be as much as a good horse or something equally as valuable. And for the purposes of this story, I like to think that Stannis understands Davos’ concerns and lends him some of his own clothes so neither of them suffers embarrassment at such a grand occasion. (And that’s something Davos would never have told Salladhor Saan…)


End file.
